


Come to Me

by by_veidt



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asguardian lube, Asguardian magic, Avenger Loki, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Couch Sex, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Extremely Dubious Consent, Groping, M/M, Magic, Male Homosexuality, Manipulative Loki, Molestation, Multi, Non-Consensual Groping, Partial Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements, Shapeshifter Loki, Shapeshifting, Spit As Lube, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 16:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9615197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/by_veidt/pseuds/by_veidt
Summary: Loki gets his hands on Doctor Strange with debaucherous outcomes. He just wants to know what his brother's so smitten with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably a crackfic, but I've never done one of those before, so I don't know. I apologize in advance for this, but I had to get it out of my system, and I wrote it all today. It's been haunting my brain space, so here, you all can have it. It could be cross cut in to Cognitive Resonance, but doesn't have to be. May also be a lead up to some delicious Strange/Rogers. I hope you enjoy it, but take the warnings seriously. It's a little heavy.  
> Not really proofread, but I'll go back and fix it at some point--just had to get it out.

Stephen leaned back against the arm of the couch, looking out across the room occasionally from his book to the sun peeking over the edge of the horizon. The rudimentary spells were having a hard time keeping his attention after so long, and the sunset was so nice. Sunrise? He wasn't sure which he was looking at for a moment until he reoriented himself to some familiar buildings in the distance, namely his old hospital. He closed his eyes for a moment; suddenly the view was less attractive. 

His heart leaped and he felt like his astral form had almost jumped out of him when a hand rest on his shoulder. He turned, seeing Thor standing behind him with a grin; he could usually feel the Asguardian long before he saw him. “I didn't know you'd be back so soon,” Stephen spoke, tone much more level than his heartbeat.

“I had to come back to see you,” he smiled, sitting on the arm of the couch and caressing Strange's neck. The man gave him an odd look, swallowing as inconspicuously as he could. 

“Well, it's nice to see everything went well.” He went back to reading, anxiety growing.

“Yes, quite well.” His hand roamed down Stephen's chest, the sorcerer closing his book and standing. 

“Is something wrong?” Thor stepped closer, Stephen's hand working a spell under the book. The Asguardian's eyes darted down just before Strange thrust his hand forward, wrist caught in the god's grasp. Their eyes met, Thor's free hand waving past Strange's face, smirking. The book hit the floor, other hand reaching for him, missing as he was spun around, arm pinned up behind his back. “So cross today,” he whispered against Strange's ear. Stephen struggled against his grasp, cloak ends wrapping around Thor's ankles. The god stepped back, releasing the man to grab a fistful of the red fabric, a blue jolt coursing over it before it withered to the floor. Stephen had turned by the time Thor looked up, blocking a whip of energy and lunging forward, hand closing over the doctor's neck. A similar blue light pulsed over the man, eyes widening as he fell slowly backwards. He hit the couch and took in a deep breath, staring up hard before trying to blink the situation away. His eyes opened to dismay and a pressure on the couch arm between his legs. He looked down his body, Thor bracing himself with one arm on the back as he leaned forward and ran a hand down Stephen's heaving chest. “There... now isn't that easier?” The voice was Thor's, but the roll of his cadence wasn't—a leering slyness to his voice that was clearly not his own, but Stephen had known that long before. There was a startling green that trickled in an out of the intense blue of Thor's eyes and he had his answer, or rather, had it given to him.

Thor leaned back, standing and beckoning Stephen forward, whose body drifted up slowly until he was sitting on the arm. “You see...” Thor spoke, adjusting some of Stephen's hair. “the problem with Asguardian magic...” he stroked the back of his hand down the man's cheek, “is once you invite it in, it's very difficult to be rid of.” Stephen sat, staring, watching, waiting. “And there's always someone who is better at it than you. Unfortunately for you, that would be me in this case.” Stephen just kept his gaze focused on the other's as Thor's hands idled with his robe lapels, opening them just slightly more each time. “And I know you'd probably say, if you could that is, 'I've never tampered with Asguardian magic',” Thor's eyes wandered lower, pushing the robes just slightly off of the sorcerer's shoulder, fingertips running down his chest, “but you have. Or rather, had it done for you. Right here.” He grabbed a handful of Stephen's groin, the man's body stringing taut. “Or should I say...” His hand moved lower until it settled under the man. “Here.” The god's eyes were on the spell-caster's, and he had to commend the mortal for his stoicism. “Well, enough talk then. Shall we see what commands my brother's attention across planes?” Stephen's focus was forward, meditating—his only option left. He felt the compulsion to stand, taking mental note of that, Thor's eyes prowling him before his hands followed. “Yes, you are certainly one of the better of your species.” One hand rest on Stephen's hip while the other massaged life into his resentfully interested cock. Strange closed his eyes, compelled to open them again. “No, no. None of that.” Thor's gaze met his again. “I also wouldn't astral project either, if you were considering it. You might not make it back.” And Stephen actually couldn't tell if he was lying or not, though that shouldn't be embarrassing considering who he was dealing with, but that was a heavy warning. He swallowed, taking in a deep breath. “Yes, that's good. Panicking is fine; a very natural response for your species.”

Stephen slid out of the other's grasp, lowered himself to his knees. The god just grinned down at him, removing parts of his armor, solid cock presenting itself. Stephen took in another slow breath, hands shakily resting on the hard armor of the other's thighs. “Go on then,” the Asguardian encouraged. Maybe Stephen would get away from this relatively easily and unscathed—somehow he doubted it. He put his tongue and mouth to good use on the god, hoping if he could wane his concentration he'd be able to free himself. A heavy hand rest on his head, fingers interlacing with his hair as his tongue drew patterns up and down the god's shaft. A sultry groan came above him, fingers stroking through his hair. “If you haven't done this for him yet, you really should,” followed the low voice. Stephen's brow furrowed in annoyance, closing his eyes for a moment to relocate his patience. Saliva trailed down his chin from the corners of his mouth as the god gave a few helpful thrusts.

“While I could do this for hours...” the voice above him spoke some time later, "and I do mean hours—days really—I'm afraid I don't have that much time at the moment. Let's move on to something a little more interesting for both of us.” He pulled Strange up by a lapel, chuckling when he came up so disheveled looking. “Subjugation suits you beautifully.” His hand closed around the strained form of the sorcerer's cock again, body tensing with a sharp breath. “Though it seems I never quite lost your interest.” Stephen reached under his robe, untying his belt sash, the strain as he fought evident in the way his arms shook, Thor just smiling—he was strong, there was no doubt. 

Stephen faced away from him, staring at the city outside, lights bright flecks of life in the encroaching darkness. Familiar hands ran up under his robes, gentle kisses on the nape of his neck so familiar and so foreign. He closed his eyes, seeing Loki's reflection faintly in the glass, and it viscerally hurt. The god grinned over his shoulder as Stephen opened his eyes again. “Is this how he touches you? How he embraces your mortality?” His hands slithered down, beyond his waistband and lower. “How he loves you?” There was a venom to the last question that seemed to bleed through Stephen's body, doubt and pain and sorrow clawing through his veins. His robes were pushed up, pants and briefs slid from his hips, resting on his thighs. A firm hand palmed up his back, Stephen leaning forward over the arm of the couch, arched towards the floor. “You are, indeed, quite exceptional. I only wish I had more time to fully appreciate your flesh.” A familiar tingling sensation spread over him as the god pressed two fingers into him, a shudder running up his skin as the magic melted him further into arousal. His lips parted for quicker breaths and snicker behind him made him regret his physiology for a moment. His cock bounced against the couch arm as the fingers pressed deeper, the reflex showing his hand, and his head dropped, eyes closed as he focused. “Is it a misconception of some sort of pride or control here that makes you fight, or are you being difficult just for me?” He pushed another finger in, Stephen's body rolling in what would have been a moan. Thor's other hand spread over half of Stephen's ass, moaning softly to himself as the other writhed slightly. “Oh, yes. I can see why he enjoys you.” He withdrew his fingers, Stephen visibly flinching. He slicked up his waiting cock, giving a few long grinds against the cleft of the sorcerer's ass. He leaned over the man, running his hand gently over Strange's throat, leaning back and pushing in to him in a long stroke. Stephen tried to strangle the moan that spilled up his throat, failing as the god pushed in farther. The Asguardian's hands roamed over the man's skin, sliding out slowly and back in, humming to himself. “Such a pretty voice you have,” the god mused, giving a firm thrust. Stephen tightened with a cry, choking out a breath as he winced. The other steadied a pace in him, savoring the way he squirmed and moaned quietly. 

Stephen's legs began to tremble after some time, knees braced against the side of the couch side as he struggled to keep himself up, and he wanted nothing more than to drop out of the other's grasp, but couldn't, the control over him too great. He rest on his forearms, hands aching as his forehead rest against them, panting out small noises as he fought the sensation building in him. He barely registered the knock on the door, the sound of the handle turned rousing his attention. Rogers walked in, looking up and promptly stepping back into the door, closing it. “I'm so sorry—I didn't mean—Oh, fuck.” 

Stephen looked up quickly, but before he could speak, a hand ran over his neck and mouth, fingers pressing between his parted lips. “Captain,” Thor spoke, a lascivious grin greeting the startled man. And Rogers felt a strange feeling wash over him, nervously infatuated with the situation. “Please, come.”

“I—I don't think that's a good idea. I should probably go. I don't--” Rogers let out a heavy breath, an uncomfortable heat growing in his loins. 

“You wouldn't want to disappoint our dear Doctor, would you? He thinks so highly of you.” Thor's tone was laced with a backhanded amusement. He slid his fingers from the sorcerer's mouth, gripping under his jaw and turning him towards Rogers. The pleading in Stephen's eyes was clouded by lust, and Rogers was succumbing to the perverse manipulation. Strange hoped Steve would know Thor well enough to recognize the dissonant speech, but he could see the carnal impulse and curiosity infecting him. Rogers stepped tentatively closer, eyes scanning intently over and back between the two. 

The god leaned back, hand sliding around the back of Stephen's neck and down his back to his hip as he straightening himself, giving a brief thrust, Strange dropping his head again. Rogers swallowed, taking a quick breath as he neared. “Please, sit,” Thor gestured towards the couch. He sat as gingerly as he could, trying to relax and failing. Strange reached a trembling hand out to Rogers thigh, gaze lifting to meet the man's. Rogers looked nervously between the doctor's eyes and the hand slowly stroking his leg. 

“Oh, boy...” Steve shifted, the nervousness evident in his voice. The spell-caster's hand slid further up and over the man's growing hardness. The blonde dropped his head to the back of the couch with a low groan. Strange's hand struggled with the belt, Rogers assisting with a single hand, buckle popping open. The doctor hesitated as he reached for the man's fly, the god giving an encouraging thrust. Strange shuddered and unfastened the uniform pants, withdrawing the impressive length and stroking it to fullness. Rogers let out another low sound, hips hitching slightly. Strange resistantly pulled at the waistband, urging the other man up. He stood briefly, one leg kneeled on the couch in front of Stephen. Strange's eyes were intense, staring up into Steve's, and for a brief moment, he thought the other man could see past the illusion, but the god's fingers threaded into the doctor's hair, pulling in time with a thrust, Stephen's mouth opening more in silent protest. 

Rogers looked up to Thor, the god giving a prompting smirk, a thrust pushing the sorcerer forward. Steve looked back down to Strange's pained expression, lips swollen and wet mouth so terribly inviting. He guided himself into the doctor's mouth, moaning as he sunk into that soft heat. “Oh, sweet God in Heaven.” He pulled back, pausing for a moment before sliding himself further in, Strange gagging slightly. Thor's hand released the spell-caster's hair, stroking his hair back gently before straightening again, grabbing his hip as his pace steadied in him. Stephen shuddered, throat tightening around the other man, causing him to moan, one hand bracing against Stephen's shoulder, and the other nervously running through the charcoal hair. He felt a strange charge spark up his arm, wincing and grabbing his forehead. He blinked hard, looking up and startling, Loki's eyes finding his, his grin fading as he recognized the look in Rogers eyes. “Oh, God!” He pulled back from Stephen, shoving himself back into his pants quickly, 

“Well, fun's over, I suppose,” Loki smiled, stepping back as he shoved Strange down on to the couch. “We'll have to do it again, sometime.” Steve lunged for him, phasing through his form as Loki disappeared with a hollow chuckle.

Rogers yelled in frustration, hands running up over his face and through his hair, disgust, anger, and terror swelling. He took in several breaths, “Son of a bitch.” He closed his eyes for a moment, turning towards Strange as he laid on the couch. “Doctor... I'm so sorry. I don't know—I didn't know—I couldn't...God...” 

“It's not your fault,” Strange responded, eyes still closed as he lay there. 

“Of course it's my fault! I should have known. I sh-”

“Stop.” Rogers was quiet, eyes meeting the doctor's as he sat up slowly. “There is nothing either of us could have done—clearly. His magic is very strong—and magic that preys on suppressed impulses has an even stronger hold.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep breath and laying his head back on the couch, eyes closed. 

Roger's brow furrowed, mind working over that last sentence. There was a long pause; minutes that dragged on beyond Steve was comfortable, but he didn't quite know what to say. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

“You could finish what he started,” Strange chuckled. He startled when he felt something brush the inside of his thigh, cracking an eye open to look down. Rogers was standing between them, leg pressed against the doctor's. He was mostly joking, not even sure if he could handle the thought of intimacy at the moment, but the sight of the Captain in front of him in full uniform certainly made him hot under the collar. His eyes widened a bit as Steve leaned down, kissing gently at his neck. Strange put a hand to the other's chest, a weakness overtaking him a second. “I was kidding,” Strange muttered, a slight smile to it. 

Steve paused, a sideways glance over the doctor's face gaining him a textbook of information. “Let me make it up to you.”

“I can't let you do that. I told you it wasn't your fault.” 

“What if I want to?”

Strange gave him an incredulous look. Rogers could have anyone in the world; he very much doubted that he was high on his list of potential bed partners. 

“Hey, us old guys gotta stick together,” Steve smiled. Strange's eyes narrowed, trying to hide a smile. Both of them hardly looked their age, but Steve significantly less so—he hadn't exactly earned his senior discount. 

“Fine. But don't break a hip,” Strange chided, hand turning from resistance to exploration, the soldier's form making him short of breath. Rogers laughed, leaning on the back of the couch and resting a knee between Stephen's legs on the edge, leg pressing to his growing hardness which caused the sorcerer to take in a tight breath.

“I'll go easy on you then,” he grinned, enjoying the way the doctor swooned under him. Strange's hands traversed his body, amazed at its perfection. It was expected of a god, and still impressive, but Rogers was human. His hands found themselves adjacent to the man's groin, gaze locked on to the conspicuous form of his cock under the uniform. He ran a cautious hand over it, enjoying the way the man hissed above him. Strange swallowed, laughing inwardly as he realized he was salivating excessively. A few strokes later he withdrew him slowly, marveling for a moment. “Want to show me what you can do without direction?” he asked wryly, shifting himself so he was straddling the doctor's body. He looked down just as Stephen took him into his mouth, Rogers' mouth falling open as the sorcerer's tongue ran down and across the length of his shaft, resisting the urge to thrust. Steve shivered as the man's mouth slicked him, leaning forward until Strange was pressed back against the couch, the doctor's hands resistant against his thighs as he thrust into Stephen's mouth. 

Rogers pulled back, taking in a deep breath as he stepped backwards off the couch. “Alright, you're pretty good at that,” he smiled, shaking his head. Stephen felt a little lightheaded, watching as the man lowered himself to his knees infront of the couch and between Strange's legs. “How do you like it?”

Stephen gave him a lopsided smile. “Just do what feels right.” Steve felt like fucking him until he screamed his name, but tonight might not be great for it, but this may be the only chance he gets—he is competing with a god after all. The soldier yanked him over the edge of the couch, settling against him and pressing in with surprisingly slickness, both surrendering a startled moan. Rogers wound his arms under the other's thighs and leaned into him, grabbing the edge of the couch frame as he began a quick pace in the doctor. “Oh, Captain Rogers,” Strange moaned, grasping for the purchase on the frame edge above him. And Steve smirked, mentally checking off that goal, cataloging it as one of the most delicious things he'll ever hear. He was a bit more relentless than he intended, but the good doctor didn't seem to mind in the slightest, arched up against him and moaning like he hadn't had any in decades, and he was starting to understand the allure that would pull in another world's god—or two as it were. All of that interdimensional power and wisdom reduced down to this flushed and squirming and moaning mess, voice so sultry and wanting, body just as sumptuous. He wondered if Thor would be willing to share. 

A hand clasped down on Rogers' shoulder, his gaze lifting to find Stephen's, desperate and lustful, flush high on his cheeks as he panted and whined. The captain's speed increased, delighting in the way the sorcerer's eyes lost focus, closing as his head fell back against the diffused shine of the leather. The hand on his shoulder tightened, a keening series of noises following just as Stephen came.

And Stephen felt like he crashed into his body as he jolted awake. Looking around the room quickly and down at the cooling wetness in his briefs that soaked out to his pants. He dropped his head back on the arm of the couch, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. He picked the book up off of his chest, folding it closed and standing. He looked out the window as the sun made its way over the horizon, scoffing.


End file.
